A Cure for Love
by Lea of Mirkwood
Summary: 2948, Rivendell- Legolas needs to fall out of love with the fairest Elven maiden he has ever seen. Ciriel needs Legolas to leave her sister alone. So Ciriel devises a foolproof plan to get him out of love, but there is a slight hitch...(Borders on parody.
1. Dulcet Tones and Stupidity

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A Cure for Love

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you would find in the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien. Ciriel and Eleniel are mine, as are the random Elves you find walking around. Song belongs to Loreena McKennitt, called Samain Night.

Explanation: I had no intention of trying my hand at a separate Legolas romance after going through four or five notebooks in Cast Your Fate to the Wind (now under heavy revision and removed from FanFiction.Net for the time being.), but got a perfect idea from one line of dialogue in a Jude Deveraux romance called A Perfect Arrangement. So here it is, the plotbunny that wouldn't die.

Author's Note on the Genre: I'm putting this under Romance/Comedy, but it really borders on parody as well. The extreme to which Legolas falls for Eleniel (who is a classic Mary-Sue) reminded me of a lot of parodies I've read, and I think it can be called a parody as well. All the descriptions of Eleniel are cathartic exercises for me in letting out all Mary-Sue-ish things I have read. So yes, that song does come from somewhere else. But thankfully, it is not a pop song. And it was difficult for me to type the word "dulcet" in association with a singing voice.

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2948, Rivendell

Legolas slightly resented his father's assumption that he needed a vacation. Just because Thranduîl had found him sitting bolt upright in the study, surrounded by papers detailing complaints about land borders and fast asleep, did not mean he needed a break. The fact that he was asleep had nothing to do with it. The Elven prince shook his head and patted his horse's neck lightly.

"There you are," he said, steering the palomino towards the box of grain. "Nice grain for you. Good boy. I'll come back tomorrow and hopefully sneak back home."

His horse _definitely_ did _not_ just give him a reproachful look.

"Stop that!" he hissed. "I do not need a rest!"

The palomino turned back away from him and began munching his grain so mundanely that Legolas felt that he had, indeed, imagined the look. _Maybe I _do_ need a rest._

Legolas left the stables, trying to ignore the memory of his father hiding chuckles when he had appeared in the great hall with a smear of ink on his temple. It hadn't been his fault that he had not slept in days and hadn't paid attention to the ink blotch on the side of his quill, and then wiped his face. Not his fault, not his fault. As he walked through the small path through the snow-white birch trees, he heard a high voice singing a lovely song. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened closely. Yes, that was a voice, and it was most likely not in his head. He tilted his head, trying to discern the words. The sweet dulcet tones rang through the trees and was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

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"When the moon on a cloud cast night  
Hung above the tree tops' height  
You sang me of some distant past  
That made my heart beat strong and fast  
Now I know I'm home at last 

You offered me an eagle's wing  
That to the sun I might soar and sing  
And if I heard the owl's cry  
Into the forest I would fly  
And in its darkness find you by. 

And so our love's not a simple thing  
Nor our truths unwavering  
But like the moon's pull on the tide  
Our fingers touch our hearts collide  
I'll be a moonsbreath by your side."

Legolas stepped from the path and started towards the sound of the voice singing. He pushed aside the leaves and branches, walking faster and faster until he stepped into a clearing. Sitting in front of a large oak tree was the fairest Elven maiden he had ever seen. He stopped dead in his tracks, mouth open in shock. She was singing, an endless, wordless note that seemed to sing to the stars. Her long hair was a silvery gold, and cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her skin was pale and shone like the moon. He could not see her eyes, for they were cast down and masked by her long eyelashes. One graceful hand was slowly swishing the water in a small pool by her side, making small tinkling noises like bells that accompanied her song. With every swish of her hand, a few droplets of water would hit her gown, making little darker spots on the pale pink cloth. Legolas looked down for a moment, and realized he was standing in a stream. He leaped back quickly, and with the movement and the noise the Elven maiden looked up in surprise, her long note of song abruptly ceasing. Legolas stared for a few breathless moments at the shocking blue of her eyes, the clearest blue, as blue as the skies, as blue as sapphires-

Before he fell over backwards.

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It had taken the Prince of Mirkwood about ten seconds of sitting on his backside in the middle of the stream with the lovely Elf tittering merrily at him before he realized he really ought to be elsewhere. Right then. So he had jumped up and ran out of the forest, as though an army of orcs had been on his tail. In retrospect, running like a chicken was probably the least dignified thing he could have done, but it was over now, and no amount of perfect hindsight would erase that. That or the laughter of Elladan when he saw his northern friend walking into his hall with one soaking boot and a wet splotch on his behind.

But what was done was done, and he might have to hide his face when he went out in public now.

Just in case he might see her.

But not in any way because he was embarrassed. Oh no.

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Ewwww...don't you hate Eleniel already? And she even has the sappy type name. "Maiden/Daughter of the Stars." I can't wait to put poor Legolas out of his misery. Sorry this was so short. But it's my goal today to get up this, a chapter of Morning Rising and a chapter of Shield and Sword.

Feedback is much appreciated.


	2. Fools and Frustrations

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A Cure for Love

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you would find in the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien. Ciriel and Eleniel are mine, as are the random Elves you find walking around. 

Author's Note: This applies to most of my fics as well. Since over the past nine weeks, I have either been in a frenzy to write (that would be past few weeks) or have NOT written, I feel extremely guilty. I really respect my writing, and by that I do not mean I think I am "all that and a bag of chips." I mean that I will not just post a scrap of shit for the hell of it without putting some of my blood into it. Figuratively. So I will try to get a chapter of SOMETHING up each week.

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2948, Rivendell

Eleniel glided into her room overlooking the river and sighed deeply. She ran her slender fingers through her long pale hair, so rare among the Elves. A laugh like silver bells escaped her soft pink lips as she rushed to the window and looked out. Then she turned to her right and spotted a small note from her sister.

Eleniel-

Library.

Ciriel

Eleniel let out a small shriek and stomped her foot, making no noise at all. The lovely Elven maiden whirled around on her heel and stalked from the room.

After a few minutes of quick paced not-really-running-because-that-would-be-unladylike, Eleniel found herself in the near center of the Last Homely House, as far from the windows and the sun as possible, and Eleniel's least favorite place. She swung open the door and quickly walked in, waving an impatient hand at the visiting Galdor as he quickly rose at her entrance. Far too polite, that one.

"Ciriel!" called Eleniel. "Ciriel!"

Eleniel found her sister crouched by a stack of parchment near the wall. Ciriel was clad in a simple dark tunic and breeches, her long black hair pulled back in a simple utilitarian braid. So much of Ciriel was simple. Her dark grey eyes were simple and thoughtful. They were the same color as wet granite and smoke. Occasionally light as smoky twilight, but then dark as wet pebbles. Eleniel's sister slowly stood to look at her.

"Eleniel?" she asked. "I could hear you when you were in our room. Your voice is so shrill."

Eleniel laughed, a sweet sound that made Galdor look up and shake his head. "Come, Ciriel, do not taunt me at a time like this!"

"A time like what?"

"A time when I have found a new face! It has been so dull here for the longest time. Galdor arrived so long ago and now he spends all his time in the dreadful library with you. Someone new is here!"

"Yes, I know," mumbled Ciriel, picking up a few parchments and leafing through them. "Prince Legolas of Greenwood."

Eleniel sighed. "How do you know?" Eleniel felt so frustrated she could just scream.

"Galdor tells me things."

As said Elf passed by where the two sisters stood talking, he raised one of the parchments he carried to the side of his face, hiding a smile. Eleniel watched the older Elf walk past, and then stared at her sister with an expression of supreme annoyance.

"Why does he tell you these things and not me?" she whined, feeling the ease of a sibling. The only place Eleniel could truly whine and the only person she could whine to was, in a word: sister. Ciriel shrugged and sat down at the table to study a few more parchments.

"Perhaps because I take the time to discuss things other than...whatever you discuss," replied the raven-haired Elf. 

"Ciriel, you're not being quite fair."

"Neither are you!" exclaimed Ciriel, looking up at last. "I am trying to concentrate here, and you come in with these stories of new Elves and fair faces. Did you beguile him already with your sweet voice?"

Eleniel's silence spoke volumes. Ciriel shrugged again.

"Come, Eleniel, just go talk to him if you so wish newer company."

"I will," snipped Eleniel and turned away. Ciriel sighed and looked back at her work. Galdor, sneaking a look at the two sisters as they parted, caught a rare moment that described their unique relationship. As Eleniel floated out of the room, flaxen hair flowing down her back like a river and blue eyes glimmering, Ciriel looked up with a soft smile on her face. Despite Eleniel's irksome habits, Ciriel confided to him once, which really weren't irksome habits at all, just perfect, she did love her. There was no jealousy or malice between the two. Eleniel just thought sometimes that Ciriel was looking for someone that she wasn't.

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Legolas was desperate. He had only seen Eleniel two hours ago, and was still not coherent enough to ask someone who she was. Finally he had found Elladan. Thank Elbereth for Elladan. Legolas, however, was forced to speak in sentence fragments. It took all of his father's training in protocol and etiquette for Elladan not to leap out of his chair and smack Legolas upside the head for acting such a fool.

"Hair...like gold. Eyes? Sapphire and sparkle. Cheeks as pink as roses, skin pale as moon. Yay-high?" concluded Legolas, waving his hand somewhere in the vicinity of his Eleniel's general height. "Sings like...some beautiful...looks like...fairer than Lúthien."

Elladan was hard-pressed not to shriek out the words: "NOT! POSSIBLE!"

"I'm afraid I cannot find for you a maiden fairer than Lúthien, my northern friend. However, apart from that lapse in description, I can think of an Elven maiden that fits that description, and has also..." _Forced other Elves to speak nonsense and act like fools_, but Elladan would not say that. Legolas leaned forward and his eyes lit up. Elladan leaned back. _I hope this isn't catching._

"Who?" whispered Legolas. "What is her name?"

Elladan really didn't want to tell Legolas. Somehow, he felt if he told him, his friend would spend the next few weeks repeating the name dreamily and singing it to her from under her bedroom window. (Hopefully not the latter, since Eleniel's window overlooked the river.)

"Eleniel."

"Eleniel..." repeated Legolas. "Daughter of the Stars."

"Excuse me," muttered Elladan, leaving the Elven prince to continue repeating a single word.

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Poor, poor, poor Legolas.


	3. Smart v Pretty

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A Cure for Love

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you would find in the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien. Ciriel and Eleniel are mine, as are the random Elves you find walking around. 

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2948, Rivendell

Smart versus pretty. That was really what it all came down to, thought Ciriel. Eleniel was pretty, generous, kind, sweet, well-meaning, stunning, ethereal, lovely, but not very smart. Ciriel was smart, quick-witted, prickly, caustic (as caustic as an Elf could be) but not very pretty. Unlike some of the lovely and mysterious dark-haired Elves, Ciriel felt quite plain. As far as an Elf could be, she was slightly plain. She had a heart shaped face with soft features and light pink lips, but she tended to fade into the background, especially with her sister around. People tended to follow Eleniel around with the puppy eyes, not Ciriel. She really wasn't put off by it, or jealous, or resenting. It was just a fact. Besides, Ciriel had found, to her delight, that many of the Elves who came to see her sister were really very interesting, and she could relate to them beyond Eleniel. Eleniel seemed restricted to the rings she had placed herself in; pretty things and songs. Ciriel had found that she could easily relate to them and that they could talk of ballads and history and battles and _intelligent_ things. After a time, Ciriel found herself able to analyze her sister's way of acting, and could imitate it. It didn't work as well for her, because most of Eleniel's tactics involved flattery, and Ciriel was too straightforward for that. Her face gave it all away. She could conceal emotions sure enough, but couldn't bring herself to coquetry. 

Ciriel sighed and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up over her head, feeling her able, fit muscles straining at the motion. She looked up at the stone ceiling and studied the patterns in the rock.

"Ciriel?"

Ciriel jerked her head back down, the legs of the chair thudding back onto the floor. Elladan stood at the end of the row. Mortals lucky enough to be admitted into the Last Homely House always wondered how she could tell the difference between the two. Elladan had a slightly narrower face and his dark eyebrows winged up more sharply. Elrohir had a slightly different face shape, more of an angle to his jaw.

"Yes, Elladan?" replied Ciriel, brushing a wisp of black hair out of her eyes. "What?"

He smiled easily. "Just thought I'd let you know that the Prince of Mirkwood has joined the legion of Eleniel's admirers."

Ciriel groaned. "I'd heard such stories about his intelligence, too."

Elladan sat down across the table from Ciriel, long legs stretched out comfortably. "Intelligence has nothing to do with it. I'm intelligent and I think your sister is pretty."

Ciriel shook her hand up and down. "That's different, Elladan. You're not..."

"Reduced to incoherence? Which he was."

"Exactly." Ciriel pressed the palm of her hand to the wooden table. "You understand."

"Do I?" asked Elladan. "What are you looking at today?"

Ciriel leaned forward and laid her torso flat on the table, hiding the parchments from view. Her cheek pressed against the wood and hands splayed over any text he might see, she said in a muffled voice," None of your business."

Elladan reached over and took her wrist in his hand, pulling upwards. Ciriel kept her hand pressed to the table as firmly as ever, and shook her head definitively. He tugged on her wrist again, and her hand lifted a few inches from the desk. He let it go and her hand hit the desk again with a thump. He chuckled and stood up.

"You're a strange one, Ciriel," he said solemnly. She lifted her head for a second and grinned cheekily, then laid her head back on the parchment.

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I was going to make this chapter longer, but I really wasn't getting anything right with how I wanted the next bit to go. Maybe later I'll come back and rewrite it, but I think it's sort of like a deleted scene. Not really essential, more fluff than anything. Oh well. My brain isn't working today. Better next luck time.

Oh yeah, and if you're reading this, I hope you read the appendices and know that a "C" in Elvish is pronounced like a "K." So it sounds like Kiriel, not cereal.

Feedback always appreciated, just not the mindless tirades of the ignorant.


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